


They’re Going Down—The Last Job They’ll Ever Do

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Character Death, Drama, F/M, mentions of several minor characters, this is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Hardison wanted to scream at them to stop, to reassess, to re-evaluate what they were planning.  Takes place after season five.





	They’re Going Down—The Last Job They’ll Ever Do

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Major character death, minor character death. I went there. This fic is all in Hardison's POV, which I think is harder because looking through his eyes only makes it a challenge. I really do mess with them in this. And hurt them a ton. I know I have four other WIPs in this fandom and the Sherlock one. I'll get to them, I promise. This just came to me.

They’re Going Down—The Last Job They’ll Ever Do

Hardison wanted to scream at them to stop, to reassess, to re-evaluate what they were planning. He’d been pissed.  He’d been angry.  He’d told them they were out of their freakin’ minds.  But none of them would listen. How could he get through to them? And why would he when he went along with the plan from the get-go?

Nate, their fearless leader, their father figure, their mastermind, sharpened his knife, sheathing it in the holder on his leg. He flipped it just like Eliot had always flipped it, expertly and dangerously.  Next went a small caliber gun on his ankle. Then the shoulder holster with the 9mm. There were probably other weapons on his person, but Hardison didn’t ask.

The mean glint in his eyes told Hardison to not ask what was next.  He’d tell Hardison in time which plan he was using. They’d discussed so many, most of them fatal to all of them.  Nate placed the beanie on his head over his now shortened curls. A dark jacket over his tight t-shirt hid the holster from view and provided more storage for any ammunition he might need.  It had covered up the fact that Nate Ford was not the same man he was a mere year earlier.  Gone was the body of a middle aged man who sometimes drank too much. He’d never have arms like Eliot or himself, but now they were lean, had muscle definition. There wasn’t a bit of fat on him now. He’d worked out too much for that.  Hardison bet he was probably just as strong as or a bit stronger than he was, even if he didn’t look it. He was sure a lot meaner than Hardison could ever be.

“Hardison? Time?”

“0400.  Should take two hours to get there. Another four to set up. Then we wait.  I’m guessing a bit after sunset, we are ready to go.”

“You better be right,” Nate told him in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m right. Not sure we’re right to do this, but my research is dead on. Which is what we will be in approximately forty-eight hours, give or take a few.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Sophie finished.

Now Sophie had followed the Nathan Ford school of getting ready to die to a T.  And he thought she was scary back in the day as Annie Kroy. Damn, this woman was tons scarier.  Gone were the designer shoes and apparel.  Her dark clothes were for fighting, not for looking good.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, low so that she could put a hat on if necessary.  No makeup, boots to match Nate’s in addition to the weapons.  She was efficient and deadly.  Where Nate had a mean face, Sophie just smirked back at Hardison instead.  The irony was killing him.

“Puttin’ it that way and every other way.”

Sophie had lost weight and gained muscle in the last six months.  She used to have more curves. Now Hardison could see the sharpness of her edges. He missed that Sophie. This Sophie had no time for feelings. This Sophie was all about revenge.

“You in?” Nate asked again.

“Of course I’m in. Just need to know the final plan.”

“Plan Z, Hardison,” Parker chimed in quietly. “Just like we thought would happen.”

If Nate had looked mean and Sophie vengeful, Parker looked sad. The dark circles under her eyes told Hardison that she was just tired, too damn tired to tell the other two to wait on this plan, if just for a minute, to reassess and make sure they were making the right decision on this.

Parker was always pale before. Now she was almost translucent.  Her eyes were almost the only thing on her face that had any color in addition to the smudges under her eyes.  Her blonde hair was tucked underneath a dark beanie just like Nate’s.  She’d cut it short one night in a fit of despair. Hardison couldn’t stop her once the scissors were out. He was so scared that she was going to do something even worse. Luckily it was only the hair.

Parker loaded her boots with her knife set (yes, a matching pair of knives Eliot had given her one Christmas instead of cash).  She carried just as many weapons as Nate did, only she had no expression whatsoever on her face while Nate looked as if he wanted to spit at any moment.  This was a woman with a death wish or who was already dead inside so it didn’t matter.

How’d they get to this moment in time?  Where was their sense of self-preservation?  What in hell were they getting themselves into?

“Time to go,” Nate announced.

“Time to go,” Sophie agreed.

Parker just nodded her agreement. Hardison had to agree. He just had to. He had no other choice once the other three were set in their ways.

 

One year prior:

“Dammit, Hardison. I told you that beer tasted like crap.”

“You can’t go wrong with orange soda.”

“With beer mixed in? Have you lost your freakin’ mind?”

Hardison liked sweet beers. So sue him.  As the two of them walked into the Brew Pub, they kept arguing about Hardison’s latest adventure in craft beer brewing. 

“Beer is not supposed to be sweet.”

“Then what is it supposed to be?  Tastin’ all nasty and bitter. Almost like you’re chewing something in your mouth?”

“Guinness is a real beer.”

“You keep sayin’ that. It’s Irish, not from Portland. If we want to make a name for ourselves.”

“We don’t want to make a name for ourselves. Every single time you change the menu or put one of your stupid beers on there, I have to fix everything.”

“Oh, please.”

Eliot stopped what he was doing and looked around the pub. It was quiet. Too quiet. No one was around. There always seemed to be someone around, whether it was one of their staff or Parker dancing around or Nate and Sophie visiting from wherever they’d traveled.  Or it could be one of Eliot’s buddies.  Or a new client.  Nothing. No one. The door was unlocked too.

“Hardison?” Eliot asked. “We’re open, right?”

“Yep. Unless I did the schedule wrong. Never happened before. Always a first time though.”

Eliot got his phone out and immediately dialed Parker. 

“No answer.”

Hardison could tell that Eliot’s spidey senses were tingling something fierce. 

“Kitchen, Hardison. Be careful.  First sign of trouble, get out. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Hardison agreed, slowly making his way into the back where the kitchen was located.

What he found was not pretty.  Line cook dead with his throat cut.  Two waitresses, not Amy, were bloodied and dead on the floor.  Where was Parker or Amy?  Where was the other cook?  He’d hired the guy not two weeks prior.  Eliot knew him back in the day. Did he do this? Did he lose his mind or something?

Looking around, Hardison punched up Eliot’s number quickly.

“El, we got a situation.”

“I know,” Eliot agreed, but sounding like he was breathing way too quickly.  “Remember what I said?”

All Hardison remembered was Eliot telling him to get the hell out if there was trouble.  There had to be trouble and Eliot must have found it.

“Oh, fuck,” Hardison mumbled as he made his way to the back and outside.

He saw Amy’s car parked there in addition to Parker’s motorcycle.  Why she rode the thing did not make Hardison happy.  It stressed him way too much.

Eliot obviously hadn’t hung up his phone because Hardison could hear on the other end someone fighting.  A feminine scream punctured the sound of punches. He was fairly sure it wasn’t Parker because Parker did not scream. That left Amy.  Working his way around to the front, Hardison charged through only to find Amy bleeding from a wound in her stomach and Eliot nowhere to be found.

“We have to get out,” Amy begged him. “Bomb.”

“Bomb?”

Oh for Christ’s sake, Hardison thought.  There was a bomb too?  Grabbing Amy, he picked her up and ran as fast as he could to get her to safety.  He wasn’t even a few yards outside when the whole thing blew up, throwing him and Amy against the pavement.

When he came to, all Hardison could think about was Eliot and Parker. They both had to be in there.

“Amy, Amy.  Parker? Was she in there?”

“I don’t know,” she groaned back.

Hardison heard sirens off in the distance.

“Listen. You’re gonna make it. Just hold on.”

As Hardison pressed on her bleeding wound, he decided once someone in authority was on site, he’d get back in there and find his two best friends. No, they weren’t even that. They were his world now. Before he could move, he punched up Nate’s number and quickly texted him that all hell had broken loose and to be careful.  Nate would know exactly what the code meant and would take extreme measures to keep Sophie safe.

As the paramedics moved in, he slipped by them to the back of the pub.  Smoke poured through the door, but Hardison knew he had to get in there and find Parker and Eliot.  Finding Parker had been incredibly easy. The bad guys had locked her in the walk in freezer, knocked out, beaten up, and tied to a chair. She must have been their insurance. He guessed that they thought the others were expendable and had seen their faces.

“Hardison?” Parker whispered as Hardison lifted rubble from the destroyed building to get to her.  “Eliot. Where is he?”

“I dunno. We gotta get out of here before the whole damn thing falls on our heads.”

As fast as he could, Hardison dug Parker out. Two firefighters found him carrying her out the back door.

“There’s at least one other guy. He’s about yay high, dark hair,” Hardison coughed.

He wouldn’t even mention the dead bodies in the kitchen. They’d find them soon enough. He couldn’t just grab Parker and run. She was hurt, badly.  Eliot probably was too, if he wasn’t already dead.

The police approached him at the hospital a few hours later. He knew, just knew then, that Eliot didn’t make it.  Hardison told them what he knew, which was the truth of what he found in the kitchen. He’d been lucky to make a few friends in law enforcement in town, helping out on a few cases. They didn’t take him in, yet.  He wondered if the aliases would hold until he could get Parker out of the hospital.

“Where’s Eliot?” Parker whispered to him as he sat beside her bed.

“Sweetie. Just, I got you. You know that.”

“Don’t you tell me he’s dead? Do you understand me?” she cried.

He squeezed her hand tight.

“It’s not supposed to happen this way. Go back. Find him.”

“Hardison?” a familiar voice called from the door.

He’d never been more thankful for Nate and Sophie to walk into a room than he was at that very moment.

“Eliot?” Sophie asked, tears already forming in her eyes.

Hardison just shook his head no, not wanting to say it out loud.

The look on Nate’s face was murder, but he held himself in check to make sure that Parker was alright before bolting from the room to leave Sophie to take care of the two of them.  He came back a few hours later, face grim.

“Did they?” Hardison started.

Nate nodded his head yes, then proceeded to punch the wall.

“I need to see him. I want to see him.”

“No you don’t, Parker. No you don’t,” Nate urged the thief.

Sophie pulled Nate into a hug while Hardison did the same with Parker. Only Parker didn’t cry. She just lay against him, all life drained out of her.

“We need to get her out of here,” Nate announced as he grabbed onto Hardison’s shoulder. “Now.”

“You know who?”

“I have some ideas. And none of them are good. Can she walk?”

Parker shook her head yes. Nate pulled Hardison out of the room while Sophie helped Parker get dressed.

“I need something to go on, Nate.”

“Seems that every government agency in the book knows that Eliot was there. We’re blown.  Moreau’s out. He’s out. I don’t know how, where, when. Sterling warned me a few hours ago.  We’ll have more hit squads after us than we can handle right now.”

“Oh god, what about Amy?”

“Sterling’s gonna try and figure out how to protect her. Tara’s gone to ground, but I’m not sure if he’s already caught her.  Sterling says he won’t let Maggie out of his sight.”

Hardison knew this was it.  Now that Moreau had escaped, no one was safe.

“He’s gonna hunt down anyone who knows us, isn’t he?”

“I contacted Quinn and a few of Eliot’s military buddies.  I don’t know what else to do.  He’s going after Aimee and her father to protect them. There’s not enough people to protect everyone.  He’ll go through every single client we’ve ever had to get to us.”

Hardison pulled out his cell phone and started to wipe files as fast as he could.

“Nate, someone has already accessed some of these files.”

“Do what you can. We need to make a list as fast as we can.”

Nate’s cell phone went off as did Hardison’s right at that moment.

“Nate?” Hardison said, disbelief on his face as he read the text on his screen.

“Bonanno’s dead. Fuck. What do we do?”

“He blew up McRory’s. Multiple fatalities. Oh god, Cora.”

As Sophie and Parker came out of the room, both Nate and Hardison were at work on their phones. Hardison tried to hide his look of anguish on his face, but he couldn’t.

“What’s happened?” Sophie asked as she looked at her husband.

“They’re taking out every single person we’ve ever come in contact with,” Nate realized, fingers flying on his phone.

“Give me your phone,” Parker asked Hardison.  “Peggy? What about Peggy?”

“Hold on. I’m on it,” Hardison said as his fingers worked faster than they ever had.

Nate looked up as his fingers moved.  “We need to move. Now.”

After grabbing a laptop from Lucille, Hardison left his baby in the parking lot, knowing that someone was probably tracking it at that very moment.  He could shield his laptop, but not a whole van. Nate grabbed as many weapons as he could from the storage compartment, handing one to each of them. 

It wasn’t hard to steal a car from the parking lot. All they had on them was a small bag packed by Sophie, some weapons and a laptop.

“We should dump our phones too,” Hardison pointed out while they were sitting at a stoplight.

“Anyone gotta burner phone on them?” Nate asked.

Sophie pulled one out of her bag.  “Emergency phone.”

“You think the safe house has been compromised, Hardison?”

“I have no idea.  They would have to have someone smarter than me to find it though. It’ll be safe, for now.”

“Traffic cameras?”

Sophie handed hats to everyone in addition to sunglasses to shield them from any other cameras that might be operating in the area.

“Set up a glitch as we were leaving the parking lot.  It should help for the moment.”

 

Two months later, they were still running from the bounty hunters that Moreau had sent after them.  Three safe houses later, they settled for a bit if just to rest.

“How many?” Parker asked as she sat on the ratty sofa, blanket tucked tightly around her.

Nate scribbled on a piece of paper, not trusting to keep the information on a laptop.

“Ten, so far.”

“We need to go after him. Nate, we need to go after him.”

“I know. Don’t you think I know that?” Nate yelled. 

Hardison didn’t want to get in the middle of another fight between Parker and Nate, but he didn’t have any other choice. Too many good people had died in the last two months and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

Nate throwing his glass up against the wall startled them all out of their positions. 

“This ends, now.  Hardison, find a way of contacting Moreau.”

“You are not giving yourself up to that madman.  Do you understand?”

Sophie was right. It wouldn’t solve anything.

“Let him take his pound of flesh. Then he’ll give up on the rest of you and stop this madness. I can’t do this anymore. Quinn was so close. So close to getting him. It’s like Moreau’s two steps ahead of us.”

“Quinn knew what he was getting into,” Sophie reminded Nate.

“Did Aimee?  Tara? They’re gone, because of me.”

“Because of us,” Parker pointed out.

“Let’s get Sterling. Maybe Interpol can do something,” Hardison asked, knowing that would probably not work, but he was out of ideas.

“He’s gone. Disappeared. He took Maggie and Olivia.  I don’t know where he is.”

“Can’t blame him,” Sophie said as she sat down on the sofa next to Parker. “Nate, we need a plan. We all go in. He needs to go down.”

 

Nate stopped drinking cold turkey.  Parkers shied away from Hardison, which hurt beyond belief.  Sophie stuck to Nate’s side like glue, still fighting like they always did, but now even more attached at the hip.  Nate formulated plan after plan, even making headway in some cases.  The bodies started to pile up. Not that Hardison minded because each of them was sent by Moreau. They each had their own kills, except maybe Hardison. He had the other three to make up for his crappy shots.  Hardison didn’t know whether Eliot would be proud or mortified that the four of them had become killing machines.

“Fourteen,” Parker announced one day. “Still doesn’t make up for it.”

Each and every shot he fired was tearing a bit of his soul away.  Parker’s was already shattered into tiny pieces.

“How many?” Parker asked him.

“I’m not counting,” Hardison told her, turning back to cleaning his gun.

He hadn’t asked the other two of their kill count either.  He really did not want to know.  The banging on the wall with Sophie’s scream did not put him in a better mood.

“Could they get any noisier?”

Parker hadn’t touched him, hadn’t cuddled with him, hadn’t even acknowledged that they had a relationship before all this hit. He sometimes just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, hide away in a closet and not come out. Any time he reached out for Parker’s hand, she jerked it away.  The only person that could touch her was Nate for some reason.

A shout and a groan later, the door flew open, Sophie barely dressed.  Nate had stopped drinking, but Sophie most definitely had not.  She downed a shot before Nate came out of the room. Gone were the suits of their cons. He’d cut his hair short, grown out his beard, had lost a ton of weight from working out. Sophie had lost weight too, but it had been from not eating enough, drinking too much. 

“Got a line on that other group? It’s gotta be Moreau,” Nate said as he laced his boots up.

“Yeah.  There’s too many for us to take on. We’ve been lucky so far.”

Yes, Hardison thought, they had been very lucky.

“There’s another way,” Nate surmised as he paced the room.

“Bomb. I get close enough to plant it.”

All Hardison could think was if there were innocent casualties. They’d also been lucky that they hadn’t killed anyone who was innocent.  At least now most of the bounty hunters had backed off.  Only Moreau’s hardcore guards were after them.

“Take down Moreau once and for all.”

“Hardison, get on it.  We work out a plan to get close. Then we strike.”

We get close, Hardison thought, then we will most certainly die.  Was this what Eliot would have wanted?  He probably would have told them to hide, to not take on the bastard and let the professionals take care of it. Now they were the only “professionals” left to do this job.  One last job.

It took another few weeks to plan, to build the bomb. It had to be transportable, had to make a large enough boom, and quickly set so that no one could defuse it.

“I can’t guarantee it won’t take us out too,” Hardison put it to them.

“Does it matter?” Parker chimed in.

“Who the fuck cares,” Sophie added, words slurring from her latest binge.

“Just make sure it’s going to not miss its intended target.”

Their informant was definitely correct where Moreau and his entourage would be staying.  Hardison didn’t ask how Nate got the information, but figured that it wouldn’t matter in a few hours anyway.  Everything had been set, down to the last detail.  Hardison would have thought it was going to be more difficult to infiltrate the compound.  The fact that Parker had delivered a toxin into the water a few hours before put them at a distinct advantage.  Bodies lay twitching on the grounds as the four made their way through to where Moreau was supposed to be. Not everyone drank the water though, but it did help not having a dozen or more guards after them.

“See Soph. Isn’t this better than grifting your way in?” Nate asked as they slammed their way into Moreau’s bed chambers.

Two girls were retching on the floor, overcome by the toxin in the water.  They wouldn’t last very much longer. If they were with Moreau, they knew what they were getting themselves into, Hardison thought.  But they were so young.

“Not here,” Parker chanted.

“Safe room. Behind that wall.  We get in there, get him out,” Hardison planned.

Nate held off any more guards at the bedroom door while Hardison planted the C4 to blow the other door. One big explosion later, the door was off its hinges, four large guards pouring out of the hole they’d created from the blast.  They hadn’t wanted a firefight, but had planned for it just the same.  A few tricks later and the four were down for the count.

Nate limped over to where Moreau was and smiled.

“How many did I take out, Ford?  How many?  Your little Robin Hood fantasies were just that. Fantasies.  How many bodies are at your feet?  All because of your little crusade.”

“Nate, we gotta plant the bomb. Don’t shoot him.”

Nate backed off just a little, but kept his eye on Moreau as Sophie and Parker planted the bomb for the biggest effect.

“Someone will just pick up where I left off. You’re fools if you think you’ll get away with this.  Right now I’m transmitting every single thing you’re doing. If you don’t die, you most likely die in prison. Do you know how many people you’ve killed? I have proof. Tangible proof you killed dozens to get to me. Innocent blood on your hands.”

“We didn’t kill anyone who is innocent in this,” Sophie reminded the man.

“Oh, I beg to differ. I’ve pinned all the murders on the four of you. All of them. Tara Cole, Aimee Martin. I could keep going with the list.”

Hardison thought back on all the resistance he received when he was looking into each of the murders. What if it was true? Could Moreau have planned all of this? 

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll all be dead,” Nate announced as he pulled out the button to set off the explosion.

“Oh and just think about all the prisoners below us in the basement I’ve kept for insurance. Will you kill them too? There are at least six people down there that probably want to live.”

“He’s lying,” Parker yelled.  “He’s stalling. Push the button, Nate.  Do it.”

“Your ex-wife begs to differ.  How about that lovely girl Peggy? You probably didn’t know what happened to her, did you Parker?”

“He’s lying,” Parker begged Nate, reaching for the button.

Nate hesitated, backing away from Parker.

“You bastard. Why? You could have just come after us, just like you did with Eliot.”

“I wanted to make you suffer just like you made me suffer.”

“Nate, now,” Sophie called out.

Hardison didn’t regret what happened in the next few moments. He had to do it. He had to save his friends, if just from dying. He had to make sure they’d go on living. He had to make Moreau pay for all that he did, especially for killing his best friend in all the world.

“I got this,” Hardison said, grinning back at his three best friends in all the world.

Hardison turned and fired point blank range at Moreau.

 

“We had a good run, didn’t we Hardison?”

Hardison laughed a little.  It was for more the sheer irony of what was being said than actually having a “good run” of things.  Things went to hell in a handbasket in one moment.

“We most certainly did. Fun while it lasted.”

Hardison couldn’t see Nate’s facial expressions, but he certainly could picture them now.  That lopsided grin, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.  Hardison smiled broadly. 

Solitary.  He couldn’t believe his luck that Nate was his “cellmate”. Why they put them in the same vicinity was possibly a mistake. It wasn’t like they could break out or anything. They could reminisce though.

“I made a guy’s nose bleed with my mind.”

“Aw, man.  You hypnotized me. Me! That violin playing was dope.”

“You were good. Better than good.”

“Pullin’ the wire in less than two hours. Now that was one for the history books.”

“It took me days to clean up your mess.”

“Hey, I had help.”

“Tara was good in that one. I wonder what happened to Doyle?”

“Doin’ five to ten for something or another. Dude was an idiot.”

It was chilly in their cells. Hardison wrapped the threadbare blanket around him.  The one that his Nana had sent him was confiscated.  She hadn’t tried to smuggle something in to him.  They were just being dicks.

“Talk to Sterling recently?” Hardison asked after a lull in the conversation.

Hardison couldn’t even remember how long they’d been imprisoned.  It felt like years. His body creaked when he got up. One hour a day outside just wasn’t enough.  The two of them were a danger to society though, so that was going to be it for the rest of their natural lives.

“A few minutes.”

“Parker. I, I just want to know, you know.”

“They have her locked down tight, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Hardison parroted back.  “Sophie?  I know she’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Nate answered back. “I’m sure.”

“Was it worth it?”

“If we’d given ourselves up to Moreau sooner? I wonder sometimes.”

They’d not talked about what had happened much, but when they did, both speculated on what would have happened if things had gone differently.

“Nate, can I tell you something? And don’t be mad or anything. Moreau was the first person I killed, that I know of.  I didn’t, you know.  I understand what y’all did.”

“I know, Alec. I know,” Nate’s gravelly voice answered back. “Thank you, by the way. I couldn’t do it. In the end, I couldn’t push the button.  He’s wrong, you know. Moreau.  All that blood was on his hands. Eliot’s blood most of all.”

Their hour of exercise finally came up. Both squinted once they were out in the small yard. Once the chains were removed, Hardison shook out his arms and legs, breathed in the not so fresh scent of the prison yard as he did.  At least it was better than the cell, which always smelled musty.

Nate sat on a bench, looked up and down and started to laugh. It was that same laugh he used all those years ago in that warehouse that Dubenich had lured them into near Chicago.  A bit maniacal, amused, and a bit crazy if anyone was to ask Hardison.

“Nate, wanna fill me in on the joke?”

Hardison looked around, eyes wide, trying to figure out just what Nate found so funny. Then he spotted it. Well, it was what he didn’t spot.

“Ok, now that was not what I expected. Where are the guards?”

One came into view. She was dressed as a prison guard, but Hardison would know that distinctive stance anywhere.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me?  Did you know this was gonna happen?”

Nate just smirked back at him.  “Sterling had some ideas.”

“Breakin’ out of solitary. Damn.”

“Parker’s plan. Sophie’s bomb.  I suggest you duck and cover.”

 


End file.
